Wobble
by Darikiema
Summary: It was the tell-tale wobble of her chin and lower lip that alerted her to the tears first. So she ran and she tried to forget. And she just might find what she was looking for.
1. Part 1

_A/N: Really haven't got much to say except that I have written the all time cliche of Bruce/Selina fandom. Their reunion and happy ever after fic. I just hope that it's not too lame. be sure to let me know!_

* * *

 **Ch. 1**

It was the tell tale wobble of her chin and lower lip that alerted her to the tears first. Sure, she had shed tears without it, but they were faked. Not real. Used to throw off suspicion or get out of sticky situations.

But this was real.

Selina did not cry often-not for real anyway. In fact, she could count the number of times she had truly bawled or sobbed in the past ten years on one hand. Her first reaction to such situations that would leave most shedding tears like waterfalls was to stop breathing. Suck in all the air and press her lips into a tiny, thin line of red. Sometimes she would close her eyes, just briefly, before facing whatever it was with the door locked firmly on those pesky, betraying emotions.

It took something truly unexpected or harrowing to bring her to tears. And this was both in a way.

The tightness of her throat and the hot liquid that blurred her vision came next. Her breathing came faster, heavier. The cop- Gordon- twitched but didn't look at her. She was grateful. Selina didn't know how she would have dealt with his sympathy, maybe even his own tears. She tried to push the tears away, put them back in their place. But they ignored her and a sob escaped the first time she tried to breath through her mouth versus her flailing, wobbling nostrils. She tried to swallow the hoarse lump down so it couldn't happen again, but it only got worse.

It was the noise that followed the light of the explosion that stirred them out of their shock. Remorse. The cop was the first to move. He shook himself savagely, almost baring his teeth in anger and grief before walking. Stilted movements of pain numbed legs quickly gave way to the determined walk of a man who knew how to hide his emotions. Leaving Selina alone.

She was alone. Again.

Forever.

* * *

The walk back to her apartment was slow, irritatingly so. She kept fighting back those tears- _the white hot panic and rage and, Goddammit! All those dashed hopes_ \- as she walked.

The cold air helped to hide the revealing red of her eyes and nose. The lipstick hid her pain chapped lips. A wind picked up and blew across her back, sending chilling goosebumps along her every appendage. From her fingertips to her very core. She told herself the shaking of her shoulders and jaw was from the winter breeze.

Sirens were wailing all over the place. People were in the streets; criminal and innocent alike helping one another to gather what provisions they could before tucking tail and evacuating the city. Batman may have saved them from the fire, but the radiation from a blast so close was still dangerous.

Selina didn't care. The rush of people would help to hide her from authorities until she could run the Clean Slate program and disappear forever. She had enough cash stashed away to get her out and keep her fed until she could find a job or score something that would sell for a pretty penny. She would be okay. Just okay.

The wobble returned and she had to force herself not to break out into a run. It was bad enough she was wearing her black catsuit and a mask on her head like said animal's ears, wearing a stolen, too-big coat to hide what she could of it. She didn't want to be bringing anymore attention to herself by tearing through the streets on four inch, serrated stilettos. Though a fast pace wasn't out of the question, considering.

Her flat was empty when she arrived. Bane's rule had seen to the gutting and pillaging of all the richer and poorer districts. The middle classes had been mostly spared when they proved to be too common to find anything good or too hard of targets when people started firing pistols and shotguns. But she knew the apartment better than anyone so she knew the alcove was untouched.

She stripped herself of the coat and mask, tearing her suit and heels off as fast as she could. Tears were streaking from her eyes to her neck, moving too fast to catch. Too heavy to keep holding in. Wearing nothing now but a sports bra and women's boxers she dug through her drawers and closet for anything to wear. She had spent most of the occupation moving from expensive suite to stylish boutique whenever the fancy (or guilt) struck her. This was the first time she had been back her since Bru- The Batman had disappeared. There was too much guilt in these walls.

Most of her good cloths were gone. All her coats and shoes were missing or destroyed by the weather. Her drawers pulled out and turned over when the pillager was searching for hidden goods or false bottoms. What little remained were from her days scraping by on little scores and small jobs she could pull off while taking care of her little runaway tribe. But they were all dead or grown up.

She settled on a pair of comfy jeans, a black camisole and a pale pink Gotham sweatshirt she had stolen from a tourists shop with thick wool socks and bright green silk scarf. She found boots in the back of her closet that weren't too rotted and still had its laces. What few cloths she had left were stuffed into a canvas backpack while the Blank Slate went into her Jean pocket. Selina didn't pack anything else but her small makeup bag, a tube of lotion and toothpaste with her toothbrush and hairbrush. Anything else could be replaced or gone without. The only thing she did before synching up her pack, slinging it over her her shoulder and leaving with it and the coat was slam her heel into the floorboards- third from the west wall and second from the nightstand- snatch the contents and stuff them into her bag.

She didn't spare a backwards glance to the place that had held a roof over her head for five years. It wasn't home anyway.

The catsuit remained on the floor: purposely forgotten.

* * *

It was laughably easy to get out of Gotham. To slip through the crowds of panicked- yet joyous- people without being seen.

She wore a worn, black hat over her long hair. It was pulled back through the opening and tied in a messy bun. She wore no make up and with her hands in the coat pockets, pink hood poking out the back and holes in her pants, Selina blended into the crowd of refugees well. The winter weather of falling snow provided excellent cover and opportunity to bury her face in the cheap scarf. Getting on one of the buses the military had standing by for the chance at evacuations. Once the city had been cleared of radioactivity, Gotham's citizens would return.

Well, most of them.

One of them would never come back. _Could_ never come back. _The Batman,_ Bruce-

Selina bit her tongue till it nearly bled. She didn't know if she would ever understand why he still meant so much to her. She had betrayed him. She had tossed him to the wolves; to his death. All just to save herself and maybe, for one tiny microsecond of hope, to get a clean slate.

She had run when she had found out and Bane had destroyed him instead of hang around for the program. If he would do that to the Batman without shame, moral or guilt, there was nothing to stop him from doing the same (or worse) to her.

Besides, it would have been like blood money. And she wouldn't deal in that. Because once upon a time ago and before Harvey Dent, Batman had come to her rescue. In the Narrows, all those years ago, he had caught her as she fell out a window during a heist gone wrong. No questions asked; he simply caught her and flew off with some witty remark:

 _"Careful there. You're not a cat who lands on their feet every time."_

She had detested him for that. She had to bury the racing in her heart somehow and that worked for her. Her costume and persona had all come together quite by accident and coincident, but his comment made her want to prove the leather (or was it Kevlar?) covered bastard wrong.

She didn't realize until that moment under Gotham, with the snapping of his spine, just how accurate his statement ended up being. Which made the guilt worse. Because she had betrayed him.

And, in the end, he had forgiven her and had faith in her. Something no one else had even done. There may have been kids she cared for in the Narrows, but they were taught to be wary of the hands that fed them since birth. So that didn't really count. Seeing as all it had done was to teach her to give up on others and look out for only herself.

Selina sat on the bus as it sped away from Gotham and its suburbs. She kept her mouth and nose hidden in the scarf to overwhelm the nerves there with the cloth. Because the silk was no where near as soft as his lips. The scarf became useful for another thing when her chin and lips wobbled. The ball cap was pulled lower as the tears grew heavier and thicker upon her cheeks. Others were crying in joy for what the Batman had done for them. Selina cried for Bruce and his lost life to people who could and would never understand him or his masks.

* * *

 _A/N: So this is the beginning of my new story. It's all finished and I will be posting regularly, so no worries there. I hope you all like it and feel free to leave a review. =)_

 _Also, I wrote this shortly after my ferret or eight years died and since i never (seriously,_ never _) cry, it surprised me just how much energy it takes. So I had a bit of experience and I hope that I portrayed it well enough._


	2. Part 2

_A/N: So here is the next bit, I'm really just writing one piece after another so I suppose this is more like a series of drabbles and one-shots. I'm still posting them the way they are because it's how the story works. Hope that doesn't put too many people off._

* * *

New York was a different beast than Gotham ever was. Bigger, badder and so much easier. Life was so diverse here and classes weren't as easy to label anyone with. It was fresh and stale to Selina. The city felt alive and full of life. There was death but no foul oder of decay that was infused within like Gotham. This city was exactly where Selina did not want to be.

It was an intoxicating place to be, what with the lights and the sounds and the jewelry stores and rich people's pockets and museums filled with priceless artifacts ready for the taking. But none of that appealed to Selina. She had spent most of her adult life worming and stealing her way into those lives to live them and rob them, but she didn't want it. She stole from the rich to feed herself and keep a roof over her head while buying a few nice things to spread the wealth a bit. And that was it.

Well that and the thrill. Adrenaline was her drug and an overdose hadn't been in her future. But then Bane showed up and the Batman came back and now she was sober.

And Selina Kyle planned on staying that way once the Clean Slate had run its course.

Of course she had to check and make sure it was true, but she trusted Bruce. Which is why, she now knew, it hurt so goddamned much that he was gone in the most noble and selfless of ways.

Sitting in a Café with free wifi and public computers, Selina watched as database after database was wiped clean a of her. It was gratifying after all she had dealt with in her life. The horrible rich snobs with grabby hands and illegal hobbies and business practices that were borderline criminal and downright immoral. She could feel it lifting off her shoulders and shedding from her skin like a fur coat getting ready for spring. She was no longer Catwoman- a dumb and not unoriginal name she really had liked- but Selina Kyle. With no criminal record or any record. Anywhere! And that made the whole thing so much easier.

* * *

Her hotel was small and cheap. The tiny town of Santa, Idaho had to be the last place anyone ever looked for her. Come on: Santa, Idaho? Who would think of a place like that, let alone name it like that. Besides, she wouldn't be staying for very long. Just until the jet lag and exhaustion of driving the car she had rented ( _actually rented!_ ) had worn off and she was ready to keep going.

The bed was soft for somewhere so cheap and unknown. The sheets clean and crisp in a real way. Not that sterile dry clean or mass laundry way. But in a 'Mom and Pop' washer and left out to dry in the wind and sun way. It smelled like the air here. Warm and fresh with earth seeping into everything. Not asphalt and exhaust. It made her smile lightly and snuggle deeper into the duvet and fluffy pillows. Something about this made her want more.

After years of wanting to stick it to those with more and trying to protect those with nothing, this ignorant in between was like heaven. Just too damned easy. And exactly what she knew she couldn't do. She had a new life now, but only because of one man.

Batman: Bruce Wayne.

She could think about him and that day without crying now, but it still left an awful ache in her chest. He had given up his life for her. Well all of Gotham, but she was included. And it made her feel better to think that she had been among his last thoughts.

Selina pretended not to feel the pillows getting wet as she cried herself to sleep. Again.

* * *

The news was playing in the small town bar when she walked in. It was hot in Arizona and Selina knew she was 'out' the minute she stopped her bike. It was a bit of a splurge and she knew she might regret it but Selina also knew it was the right choice for her. No matter how similar it was to the BatPod.

Gotham had been on there a lot, but tonight was the unveiling of the big tribute to those who fell ending Bane's rule. She had to order a shot just to watch it.

Commissioner Gordon was giving a speech about those who died and those who lived. And the reason why. A blackened figure looked down upon the camera with the intensity of the Batman himself. Her chin wobbled and the air felt hot and sticky in the bar even though she knew there had been air conditioning when she walked in. The news played on as she fought back tears and her shot. Vodka felt good burning its way down, not up. It looked so much and nothin like him.

Bruce Wayne's name came up on the list of the dead and the anchorman explained there had been a small, closed funeral.

 _For an empty coffin._

She ordered another shot. This wasn't him either. The playboy billionaire with more time than brains and a company that had run itself into the ground all for a good cause, but a fruitless one.

Both masks and neither one a whole picture. Even together they didn't tell his story or express his true self- whatever that was.

Selina left the bar before the alcohol could settle and threw it up a half mile later.


	3. Part 3

The West Coast was more beautiful than the East. Perhaps it was the sun and the sand. Or maybe, the wind and the gulls. But it was calmer and more dangerous. Bigger, badder, sweeter, crazier, whatever. It was _different_. There was nothing reminiscent about it. It was simply an ocean and she could breath the air easier and feel the breeze without remorse. It was better. It wasn't tainted.

He hadn't died over it.

* * *

The city of Seattle was a quaint and lively city with mountains so tall they nearly always had a cloud covering their peaks. The fish market of Pike Street was a whole new adventure to her. They brought sea creatures as far as the China Sea and the Arctic Circle as fresh as could be. Crab had become her new favorite sea food.

The Space Needle had always seemed like a cheap knock off of the Eiffel Tower to her growing up, but she visited it regularly when she wasn't working as a barista in a downtown café. She had even made plans to visit the historical site at the base of Mt. Rainier. Yes, Selina was content here. In this city where crime was trivial compared to her hometown. Where people were nice and generally good natured. Even the bad apples were more congenial than Gothamites at times.

But it still felt like she was missing something. Her fingers traced the tiny silver bat charm on her collarbone. Where his pearls had once rested, but her lip didn't wobble anymore. No more crying herself to sleep wondering of 'could-haves' and 'if-only's'. She was still tormented by the knowledge that she had sent him off with the feel of her selfish lips against his, but that didn't affect her like the sound of his back cracking forever would.

At least she could last longer without thinking about him. Her record was three days. She had forgiven him for leaving in the Bat and blowing himself up. He had been doing what he always had been: what was right for the city. For the innocent people who did not deserve what happened, but we're better for it.

She only felt a twinge of guilt by being happy this had happened to them. Really, they needed the kick in the ass to really get their butts in gear.

Her apartment was modest and Selina had graduated from a single canvass bag to two full saddle bags in her personal belongings. Only having collected a few more pairs of jeans and shirts with a hoodie from Santa, a shot glass from L.A. and a hat from Portland. She liked the souvenirs; they gave her an anchor to this new life while the Gotham sweatshirt was enough of a reminder of her past to make herself sick.

She still wore it most days.

* * *

Selina liked the new life she was living in Seattle, but a call of her old habits could not be ignored and the glitz and glamour of the high life too alluring to pass up when a big hot shot invited her to attend a party his CEO daddy was hosting. So she tried not to squirm in the slinky red dress she had bought with his money (Daddy's money) and to enjoy herself on the ballroom floor.

Baby CEO was clingy and possessive and it irked the hell out of her. Because he had no right to hold her like that. The way she had wanted _him_ to. But she kept her tongue held tight between her teeth as she forced herself to laugh.

She snuck away around eleven when he was too drunk too notice. She didn't even lift his wallet.

* * *

Selina had never intended to be the Catwoman. But, considering her former occupation and talents, the name had made sense and it stuck. She had left the suit and goggles behind when she fled Gotham and she never regretted it. But Batman had awoken something hidden deep within her. His faith in her had made her open her eyes and see the world through his. She supposed she had the unique ability to do so.

Watching the city streets below her, Selina debated the merits of the rebirth of the Catwoman. If she could change and fight the rich and the criminal for the right reasons. Sirens caught her ear and the police scanner indicated an armed robbery in progress.

She could handle that. The Batman didn't have the monopoly on the dark and silent.


	4. Part 4

She supposed, later on, that it was what he had done to her that had given him a way to track her down. With the Clean Slate there was nothing to use to trace her locations. With her history, the lack of mysterious and high end theft had been a cold trail. A dead end.

She had punched him when he showed his face. Clean shaven and a smile wider than she could recall ever seeing it. The grey in his hair only accented a life well spent and- dammit! He was fucking alive.

It was after an interrupted rape attempt on an otherwise normal Thursday night and Selina was tiered. A good kind that gave her a chance at a dreamless sleep. She knew in an instant that something was off within her apartment. Even before opening the locked door and turning on a light.

Her drawn gun hit the carpet with a loud, dull thud.

"Hi," he said sheepishly, giving her this awkward little wave before running that hand through his hair. All while she stood there like a fish as she was trying to comprehend what she was seeing.

When his smile fell and his bright eyes dulled, that's when Selina snapped out of her trance. Slamming the door shut and foregoing picking up her glock, she decked him as hard as she could. Her bruised knuckles screaming in protest. Almost as loud as her thundering heart.

"I thought you were dead," she snapped. Livid. She was fucking livid with betrayal. _How could he not tell her? What took him so long to find her? Why did he even bother?_ It took her a minute and the squeak of her voice for her to notice she had said it all aloud. She didn't care.

It was the wobble that alerted her first.

"Ow," he joked. Wincing when he rubbed his really sore, bleeding jaw. She had started screaming at him after that. _Why did he betray her trust like that? How could he take so long to find her and tell her the truth? Why not tell her in that tunnel? Why-?_

It was the wobble that gave her away.

He had her face in his hands before she could pull back. Wiping his thumbs over her cheeks to soothe the tears away. He didn't want to be the reason she cried anymore.

"There was no time," he explained simply. And really, there wasn't. With no real way to determine how long until the exact moment the reactor blew, he had to leave as quickly as he could; get as far away as possible before it exploded. _Before it killed her._

Her breath hitched when he said it. When his thumb found her lip and caressed the skin there gently. Never had she forgotten the feel and taste of his mouth with hers.

"I would have, if I had had the time, Selina. Honestly, it was the hardest thing to not accept your offer right then and there. But, what life could we have had if we had that guilt hanging over us? Over me?" She swallowed, hands on his chest to brace herself. The spot she had punched was a deep red and would darken around the split lip within the hour.

"It still stands. The offer," she whispered in a hoarse voice. She hoped that her desire for him to say yes didn't show through too much. She had been so lonely. So tiered of solitude.

"I'd like that, 'Lina" he murmured through an ear to ear smile. A genuine and happy smile. The best smile he had ever given her and even her desire to kiss him wasn't enough to make her stop watching in awe.

"I'd like that a lot." And with that he was kissing her and their lips and arms were coiled around each other in a desperate bid to never let go.

"Bruce," she sobbed into the hair above his ear. "Please don't leave me like that again." He only nodded into her shoulder where his nose was buried in her black sweatshirt. He was clutching her so tightly she thought he might break a rib.

Minutes went by as slowly as hours, time both in favor and against the couple. And still they remained intertwined in each other's grasp. Kissing occasionally, but just holding- desperately clutching- tightly. The sun had come up as they remained like that.

Until Selina's alarm went off. Bruce just gave her this amused grin when she reluctantly extracted herself from his warm body. Instantly cold, she shut the thing off and reached for her phone.

"You know," Bruce began when she finished calling in sick. "You are a hard woman to find."

She flashed him her signature smirk. Devilishly sexy and wonderfully dangerous to anyone but him. "It seems you've had an effect on me, Mister Wayne. I don't play rich men anymore."

"So I've noticed. The only reason I did find you was 'Catwoman Saves the Day'," he explained, pulling out a worn newspaper clipping. An article done about her two weeks ago. She smiled at the memory and the horrible inaccuracies of the story.

"It's a lot better than they make it out to be," she assures him.

"I can't wait to hear it." He sits on the bed with her, tangling his fingers with hers.

"Where did you want to go?" she finally asked; she was both relieved and sad to be leaving this city.

"I was thinking of Europe. A lot of art to be seen there."

Selina raised her brow at him. He was giving her a shy smile and squeezing her hand reassuringly. A gesture that she loved. She nodded: "Okay."

His smile eased any fears she may have had about this new arrangement. His mother's pearls around her neck helped alleviate any tension.

For now at least.


	5. Part 5

There were fights. Lots of fights.

Fights about where they would live. How they would live.

There were fights about jobs and names and their relationships.

There were a lot of fights about that. About why Bruce came back or why Selina asked him to run away with her.

There were fights about their fights. About arguments and bickering that would sometimes keep the neighbors awake. Those were the silliest by far but it didn't stop them from happening.

And then there were _fights_. With fists and elbows. Feet to backs of knees; fists to guts. Nails and knives and basic ass kicking of a level far beyond the average criminal. Oh yes, Bruce and Selina fought city crime when they saw it, wherever they went. It was one of the few things about their awkward companionship and inability to open up that was bearable. Kicking well deserving ass and stretching sore muscles that should probably be let go of.

Not that either ever would.

They're in Hamburg the first time. Paris the fourth. A never ending stream of bad guys to take on with their new lives and small time jobs. Selina usually finds work in the public eye as a waitress or barista. Bruce goes to work in factories or driving companies. They both agree to stop when they get to the next city. The next town.

But they never do. Bruce is hurt and Selina tiered, but the bickering and the crime fighting continue.

* * *

Bruce wants to visit every restaurant and café along the river when they get to Florence. Selina doesn't ask why, tiered of fighting and ready to either make this work or bolt. She thinks he can sense this because he is always holding her hand and flashing her these reassuring smiles. Then goes back to the searching he doesn't know she can see.

She brushes away any jealous feelings and hopes he finds whatever it is and can find peace also.

* * *

It's afternoon when he sees him. The sun a beautiful golden color that reflects deliciously off Selina's hair and the blue dress she wears is more attractive on her than black. The pearls look better on her than in their box.

A waiter is speaking to Selina when their eyes meet and exchange nods. Instantly a weight lifts from Bruce's shoulders and the light smile is far more real than it was a moment ago. They continue on like that for some time. Casting occasional glances at one another while they enjoyed their meal at separate tables but still together and happy.

Selina caught the wry looks and careful smiles from Bruce to someone behind her. She never looked back because the serene sense of peace that has fallen over them was enough of a clue. And she was happy for him. For both of them. Maybe now Gotham could truly be put to rest behind them.

Selina payed for their meals and asked the waiter to be sure the elder man received his receipt. Bruce had said nothing (having been in the bathroom) when they left. Not even a backwards glance at the table.

Selina didn't answer him when asked why she was so chipper. He would figure it out.

* * *

A fantasy of finding a lost loved one in a happy life was all fine and dandy, but not at all real when that person has been there for most of your life. When they raised you after the death of your parents and nursed you back to health after every fight and injury. When that man still looked so lost and broken after finding you alive.

And especially when a certain cat was your companion and couldn't leave well enough alone.

Bruce and Alfred sat pleasantly upon the hotel terrace, sipping brandy and a finger of scotch. Selina had disappeared into the suite some time ago. Leaving the two men alone with each other and their thoughts. On the streets below, couples and groups of laughing children milled about. Making conversation or playing games of knights on quests. The sun shone down on them as it sank below the skyline. Both in simple clothing and comfortable silence. Never again to be master and butler. But, maybe, just friends. Maybe more.

Maybe family. A real one.

"I never thought it would turn out this way," Alfred began, brandy coloring his tongue. "Once I saw you in that café and I knew you had done it, I didn't figure ever seeing you again."

"Yeah well, Selina has her own agenda." Bruce smirked to his glass when Alfred wasn't looking. So he thought. "But I don't mind. She is good for me. Full of life and determined to keep me from hiding away again. She is..." he trailed off.

"You love her, don't you?"

"No," Bruce snapped more out of childish instinct and embarrassment of being caught than out of any real anger.

"No," he said again, softer when Alfred gave him a knowing look. "I don't. Not yet. But maybe someday." His voice was soft, wistful and full of hope. And Alfred was glad to hear it. To see the truth of it on his face. The poor girl listening by the door deserved that was well. Maybe this was all they needed to make it right. Make it work between them.

Alfred was happy to help. It just wouldn't do if it had all ended up an illusion that hurt the poor boy into going back to being the Batman. He did still hope to see Thomas' grandchildren- _hush, hush. Don't scare them off, you old coot!_

"Someday may be right around the corner, Bruce. Don't muck it up and miss it," he chided. The younger man swallowed.

Bruce wanted so badly for it. To love someone the way his parents had. The way he knew others had. Did. Was it too much to hope for the same thing? Even as he denied it, he knew how much it was already true. But what good was it to scare her off with such feelings and drive her away when they weren't reciprocated? He didn't think that, after all the pain and the fighting to stay alive and make this work, she would want to move too fast. Even if he did. He knew he wouldn't last above the water the symbol of the Batman was without her. Bruce _needed_ Selina to stay with him.

"Someday will be hard to get to, Alfred. We aren't normal people. It takes longer to open up and understand one another. To figure ourselves and the other out. Both because of our pasts and away from it."

"Love, Bruce- honest and true love- does not wait for someone to give their life's story and hope to be accepted. That comes with time and hard work. Love finds you in your darkest moments and helps pave the path to the light. When you let go of your fears and use them to be a better person, things, inevitably, work themselves out. Give yourselves the chance you fought for- died for- and truly deserve." Alfred returned to his brandy, sipping it congenially. Bruce watched him, puzzled. And thoughtful.

"Oh, and Bruce," Alfred said, gripping his and Selina's hands before leaving their hotel room, but not their lives.

"Have a little faith in yourself. Both of you."

* * *

They had sex for the first time after Alfred left. It was both a rushed and desperate attempt to make it work and a slow, languid way to get to really know one another. What made them tick and moan with ecstasy. Neither were willing to give full control but more than ready to loose themselves in the other.

They talked afterward. Long into the night and until the sun began to rise through the bedroom window. Promising more with each kiss and every caress.

They didn't call in sick to work, despite having stayed awake all night and Bruce having squirreled enough away over the years to not need jobs. They had mutually agreed to take the day away from each other and observe their reflections to one another that night.

* * *

Bruce yawned once more. Third time in an hour and Marcel had noticed. They were drivers for an armed truck company and Bruce never let the other man drive. Ever.

"Who did you screw last night?" The ever tactless Italian asked him. Bruce, now Thom, raised an eyebrow at the guy next to him.

"That's like the twentieth time you've yawned all day. Something you never do, by the way," he explained in rapid Italian. Thom only rolled his eyes. "That and you've been smiling a lot when you think I don't look. So who was it? That girl who brings you lunch all the time?"

Thomas flashed Marcel a warning glare. The light turned green and they made their way back to the garage for the night.

"Bout time," Marcel mumbled under his breath, grumbling the whole way home.

Bruce smirked slightly. _Yes it was._

* * *

Selina looked forward to the end of the day. Tiered of being so see through in her retirement that the other waitresses continued to goad her for details behind the man who made that warm smile on her lips. She liked the other girls and the women from the kitchens, often spending breaks swapping stories about patrons or flings of the past and present. But it was too hard to tell them about her relationship with Bruce on a normal day. And today was not normal.

Selina had never been one to kiss and tell and so she had no intention of spilling the story of her previous night in Bruce's embrace. Of course, they were Thomas and Serena here, but that was beside the point. So she was rather irritated- _and so very relieved_ \- to be explaining her feelings to strangers.

"Oh, come on!" Bea cried, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder and clapping Selina on the shoulder. "Tell us what happened."

"Not that much to tell," Serena explained in stilted Italian with a faux French accent.

"Pfft!" Margaret exclaimed. Serena blushed. More out of true embarrassment than the will to be normal.

"His uncle came over and I guess they had a heart-to-heart because the next thing I knew, well, the sun was coming up and we were still talking. In his bed... Naked." She was sweating her blush was so hot.

 _Sure! She could keep her cool in the face of death and stolen jewels but she couldn't keep from blushing like a fifteen year old in front of these normal women?_

"About time!" They were crowing.

"Aw, that's so cute!" They were squealing.

"Good for you, Sweetheart," they were congratulating and comforting her.

"Get back to work you gossiping fools," their boss cried. Rescuing her from any further embarrassment. And confused feelings.

Well, not that confused. She still smiled a real smile to the customers as she counted the minutes until she could kiss Bruce again.

And a lot more than that.


	6. Part 6

_A/N: Wow! a longer chapter- must be a mistake. Just kidding. This part of the story is pretty fluffy and doesn't really go into too much detail about their lives but it is better than it started out as! Feel free to let me know what you think! =)_

* * *

Florence worked out well for them. With Alfred's history with the city, he could move there without suspicion. Serena and Thomas, meanwhile, moved on to bigger and better things through the years there. Going to school and learning about new things or getting certification so they could legitimize any business endeavors.

Selina moved on to be a teacher in a pooper district. Becoming a councilor for children who sought crime as a means to getting what they wanted and needed. She didn't always win the battle, but often she could fight hard enough to make a dent. She made a big difference in the school. Bruce began a life of charity. He built a company that endeavored to build shelters and kitchens to the poor and homeless. The bar he owned and managed was just a cover. A diversion to their friends and a good way to provide for himself and Selina.

A lot of hardships had come their way in the past four years, but with each other- and Alfred- they made it through. Bruce taught martial arts on the weekends and Selina women's self defense every Monday and Wednesday. No masked crusaders lived in their city. But they did live around the world. Getting helpful tips and coaching if they had the guts to find the "Teachers".

Alfred pretended not to know about it as he quietly funded the trainees and the charity.

* * *

"Happy anniversary, Lina," Bruce murmured in her ear. The sun was just rising on a cold, snowy morning. Not as cold as that day or that place, but enough to be wearing sweaters and coats outside and long sleeves and socks indoors. It wasn't their wedding anniversary they were celebrating. It was their fresh start. Their fifth year as free and normal people.

"Mm," Selina hummed into his beard. She liked him clean shaven, but enjoyed the brush of facial hair in the winter. It kept his lips warm.

"Alfred will be here at six, tonight," she reminded him. He only nodded, eyes still glued shut. It was only five-thirty in the morning and she was still used to American standard time. He didn't mind. They so rarely even spoke English to each other anymore it was nice to hang onto some habits.

"Did you get the cheaitaue?" He nodded. He was a bartender and owner in a middle class pub. He catered to a wide variety of people, so of course he had the expensive wine they liked to spoil the elderly man with.

She was watching him when he finally opened his eyes. A strange look in her brown orbs. A look of uncertainty overshadowed by her amusement from his current behavior.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're just cute when you're trying not to wake up," she deflected. The concerned furrow to his brow made the amusement falter and fade as she bit her lip.

"Not yet," she finally whispered. She placed a kiss against his lips and pulled herself gently out of the bed's (and his) warm embrace. "I'll tell you tonight," she promised, getting ready for work and leaving him lying in bed confused.

* * *

"Happy anniversary!" Alfred exclaimed that night. He had become a happy old man in the years past and now felt more than inclined to be a constant entity in the couple's young marriage. Always giving sage advice without prompt and gentle reassurances when life got rocky.

He was healthier than when they first ran into him too. No where near as pale and a decent weight for a grandfatherly figure. Which he happened to tease them about. Often.

"Oh, Alfred," Selina smiled, swooping in for her hug. She was forever indebted and grateful for this man in her life. If it wasn't for him, she and Bruce wouldn't be Thomas and Serena Kyle. She owed him their lives.

"I am so glad to see you. How was your trip to Spain?"

"Wonderful I especially enjoyed the naps." She laughed.

"Bruce is running late. He'll be here in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, that's quite alright. How is the build coming along?" They made their way into the small kitchen of their townhouse.

"Very well," Selina promised, shedding the Italian facade like a bird would the rain. Beautifully. Alfred would never cease to be amazed by the transformation. The way both she and Bruce could cast themselves into new molds and different personas with ease. Though it saddened him as well to know that it was a byproduct of hard lives neither one deserved.

"... and then it should be able to feed and house up to fifty orphans. We'll teach them how to provide for themselves by legal means and get tutors in to get them ready for their grade level. The city has agreed to provide school lunches and supplies annually, so long as they can provide good grades and the company pays for half." She was explaining in that calm way she used with her young students. A warm and mothering way that only Bruce had been able to draw out and nurture within her.

"Very good. And I suppose all is well on the home front?" He asked giving a sly smile. Only to receive a troubling quirk of her lips and twitch of her eyes before it was covered up with that devilish smirk the Catwoman was known for.

"Everything is perfect, Alfred."

And the elderly man cursed the same chameleon nature he was so fascinated by. _Damned actress._

"Good, good." The two of them were good as distraction, but he was also as good at placating facades. He was the one who taught both Bruce and Thomas how to keep a pleasant smile and polite conversation despite yourself after all.

* * *

Bruce was, in fact, thirty minutes late from his class, but with the very expensive bottle of wine in hand. The other guests had arrived long before him and we're casually chatting in the large dinning room as they sipped water or white wine (except Marcel and Antonio who were real men and drank beer and whiskey) while they waited. It was a small affair, like always. With only their good friends and what they now considered family. They were used to the dinner date on the day of Batman's death- they all knew the story of the two's imprisonment and escape. Just like they were all used to Thomas' tardiness: they knew about his feisty (gay) manager.

What they didn't know was the real truth. But that was okay. They didn't need to know that they were Batman and Catwoman once upon a time ago or that their manager was actually the newest trainee. (He was still very much gay though.) They were happy in their ignorance and the couple was content to keep it that way.

* * *

When dinner was over and all the guests but Alfred had gone, Bruce and Selina sat down upon their second story balcony to talk with their best friend. The wine was gone, replaced with hot whiskey. Selina was content not to drink. Just rest comfortably against Bruce's side, his arm around her shoulders and her legs across his lap beneath the wool blankets.

She was pale and drawn looking. Haggard almost. So Bruce kept a steady grip on her shoulders and occasionally brushed his soft lips and trimmed beard against the top of her head. She would hum in response and snuggle further into his warm side. Alfred looked on fondly.

"You have done well for yourselves," the elder said into the cool night air when it looked as though she had fallen asleep

"Couldn't have done it without you."

"No. Not as fast as you did, but eventually."

"I really don't think so, Alfred. We were in a bad spot and probably wouldn't have lasted much longer if you hadn't been around." He was staring off into the city lights, remembering the sheer terror of Selina possibly leaving him and being alone.

"You would have done it. I have faith in you."

"Still wouldn't have given up on me?" Bruce asked the age old question. The game meaning something else now.

"Never." Alfred said firmly. "I know you. Better than yourself sometimes. I know you would have swallowed your pride and followed her. Made things right and worked it all out."

"Well, for our sakes, I am glad you we're there to spare us the pain of false starts and bitter endings."

"As am I."

Silence reigned for a time. Each man lost in their own thoughts, Bruce's fingers running through Selina's hair. She was breathing easily and her cold nose would press into his shoulder every once in a while. And they were happy.

* * *

"Before you leave, Alfred," Selina was telling him once Bruce released his greatest friend. She moved closer, whispering something in his ear as she hugged him. His eyes widened, flicking towards Bruce before going back to the floor. He noticed the strain on the former butler's face, but couldn't asks because they were pulling away and he was patting her cheek before leaving with a wave goodbye. Bruce saw the sheen of water in the warm eyes and wondered what was spoken.

"What?" She snapped sheepishly. She avoided eye contact with his crossed arms and raised eyebrow that demanded an explanation.

"Didn't you say you had something to tell me this morning?"

Selina bit her lip and walked around him. He was tempered to step in her way but knew the danger in such actions. Instead, he followed her to the couch to wait her out. She sat stiffly and with her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Even sitting next to her didn't calm the nervous shaking he had never seen in her before.

"I went to the doctor on Wednesday." She was speaking in a Gotham accent and he knew something serious was going on. He took her hands in his and kept them in an iron grip.

"And?" He asked, reverting back as well, waiting with bated breath.

"I'm-" she spluttered, looking into his eyes with tears and dread and fear and hope. He swallowed, hoping to whatever God there was she was not sick. He could not loose her. He would tap every reserve fund there was for her medicine. He would do anything to- _"I'm pregnant."_ -keep her safe and and healthy and-

"What?"

"I'm pregnant," she said again, tears in her eyes and fingers white with the tension of holding his own in a death grip. Neither one had any feeling left in the digits when his grip tightened at her news. She was biting her lip with nerves and the tears were starting to fall slowly as each second passed by with increasing agony. He was blinking slowly, his jaw working from side to side- chewing her words over again and again. Their hands still clutched desperately.

"Pregnant?" She nodded, throat too tight to answer verbally.

It was the wobble of her lip that broke him.

"Really?" He asked, a light so bright in his eyes, she would never think the sun anything but dim again. His mouth split into the widest grin she had seen since she had said _"I do"_ and _"Yes"_ before that. On both occasions. And suddenly she had tears streaking down her cheeks for the first time in four years and his lips were pressed soundly against his own.

"I guess I don't have to ask if you're happy about it."

"Yes, Lina."

She was suddenly in the air and they were spinning while they laughed. Hearts the lightest they had been in a very, _very_ long time.


	7. Part 7

_A/N: And another short chapter. I hope you like it though._

* * *

Selina was terrified.

What would become of their child? What would they tell it as it grew up: the truth or the same lie everyone else knew? Would they teach it self defense or go further with it? Should she pass on her talents for theft? Or keep that part of her past a secret?

What would they do if they didn't tell them and they found out? What would they do if someone else found out they were still alive and use their baby against them? Both she and Bruce would do anything to keep their child safe. That was never in question.

But what was- really; honestly- in question was if they would be any good at this. They would have Alfred and all their friends were having children, leaving them with ample support and playmates in the future. But would that be enough? Would it be enough to keep them safe and raise them right?

Selina knew that the baby would grow kind and generous; they would be proud and strong but would they have Bruce's conviction and an unwavering moral compass or her steady and protective nature? Would they end up with a thirst for thievery or a passion for justice that could only lead to pain and ruin?

Who would care for them if something happened to the both of them? Would Bruce be able to raise their baby without her? Or vise versa?

These questions plagued her as she slept and brought out the dark nightmares of her past. She wasn't the only one, but Bruce was better at calming down and facing the truth than she was. His dedication to their new life stronger; his faith in people greater. He was the only anchor she had in the terrifying world they were diving into.

"We'll be alright. Everything is gonna work out," he would whisper to her as she sobbed.

And she would believe him.

Forever.


	8. Part 8

She was old when she died. They had a long life together and she wasn't surprised by his death. She was surprised by how long he had lived. He had been so much closer to the blast when it went off it was a wonder he didn't have radiation poisoning. Or maybe he had. He had never told her about the time between the explosion and finding her. She had never cared to ask.

In the end it was cancer that had taken him away from her. Not a knife in the hand of a criminal or an evil plot by some psychopath. It made his passing easier. To know he had gone in peace.

The world was different now. Vigilantes were no longer needed but still milled about just in case. To keep the symbol he created alive and powerful. His trainees had long retired and began their own instructions, passing on his legacy and his teachings. Her own three children continuing his work in both their public and private lives.

They were with her now as they buried him next to Alfred on their quaint villa. Beneath the old oak tree he had planted in his mentor's honor. Where she would be buried someday. Soon. For she had not escaped the radiation either and the cancer was spreading savagely.

It was torture to loose her legs, unable to wear those sinful heels she had always sworn she would wear on this day. Instead she wore tears on her cheeks, red lips quivering.

She missed him already. But she was happy; at peace. The world was better by his making and Batman hadn't died in vain. They had lived happily while doing their part to fix it. There were no regrets.

* * *

She died at the age of eighty-seven in time to see her final grandchild born.

* * *

Selina woke in a bright place with a warm sun on her shoulders and laughter in her ears. His arms were warm and strong around her; his lips were full and happy against her own. He was there with her to kiss her and love her. She could feel her lip and chin wobbling with those wonderful and happy tears.

How much good had she done in her life to deserve this? To be with him again?

Bruce smiled and kissed her soundly. They had an eternity of this. She hoped.

Because he was hers and she was his.

Forever.

* * *

 _A/N: Aw... Yes, happily ever after indeed. I don't personally believe in an afterlife but I do think that there is a possibility there could be one and I would like to think that we go there to be with our loved ones again. Which is sorta why I put this in there. I hope it doesn't offend anyone or was too sappy. Cause, well, it is and_ I _get sore teeth from reading the fluff. But I still like it._


	9. Chapter 2

**Ch. 2**

She woke with a start. The underground prison was quiet; dark and silent with anticipation. The quiet dawn before the proverbial sunrise to the new order of Gotham. It was only a few hours after Bane had...

Selina took a deep, shaking breath to steady herself. To push the memories away and to forget. She had to forget. She kept breath heavily, ignoring the way her throat was tightening. Trying to come up with a reason why her stupid brain had conjured up something so hopefully, _painfully_ wonderful with a dead man. Whom of which she had betrayed. Who, even if he was alive somewhere, surely hated her.

She certainly did.

Her nostrils were flared as she peered out of the dark room, gathering herself enough to escape. She had to get back to the apartment to check on Jen and to pack up her things and to make it to the airport before it all started. Before she lost her mind. Like she had lost her soul.

Like she had lost him.

The silent hallways pressed in around her with angry words and bitter glares. She could see his face: the cowl dark and angry in the harsh florescent lighting with thin (soft and kissable) lips slack jawed just that tiny bit. His eyes were wide- God! His eyes. So dark and intense they almost swirled with emotion and sentiment and resentment. His startled expression turned steely with hurt and acceptance. Like he didn't know she was going to do what she did, but he was far from surprised. Which is when his eyes turned cold, like the rock and concrete tunnels that would pierce the dark to hurt her with his pain.

Every footfall was his back snapping, cracking, _breaking_ and she had to falter in her step or else loose her stomach. And her dignity. She held little respect for anyone in the world now that _he_ was dead, but she wouldn't let some pea brain catch her tossing her guts and assume she was weak. Because she wasn't.

And she didn't feel guilty at all when she told herself he was the weak one who had believed her. The fool.

Really. She didn't.

Much.

Daylight was seeping through the cracks of the manholes and the storm drains, but there was no warmth in those rays. The coming winter chill had nothing to do with the shiver running down her spine, sending good bumps along her arms and legs. No matter how much she told herself it was. Because even she could understand how poor of an excuse that was.

She tried not to think about how _he_ wouldn't see this light. How this sunrise would be the first in Gotham without the Batman. Without Bruce Wayne and without Selina. Because she was dead. Right? She had lost her soul when she lead him down there, and you needed a soul to live, right? At the very least you needed a heartbeat and with the amount of guilt crushing down upon it and pressing into every organ in her body, she suspected- she _knew_ that if it wasn't true now, it would be.

She was a corpse; a walking husk of a person who betrayed a good man. For nothing. _Nothing._

Selina ran and ran. She would forget it all soon enough and this nightmare would just be a ghost to her memories. She was Selina Kyle: Catwoman. She didn't feel remorse or guilt. She didn't feel shame and she sure as hell didn't feel affection for the rich. The Elite and the Privileged. And that was all Bruce Wayne was. A superhero wannabe that dressed up in a mask and beat up criminals and pretended he was actually helping. She didn't care about him and she didn't care about what she had done to him. If he was stupid enough to follow a notorious thief and liar, it was his own damned fault for getting his ass handed to him and his back-

She didn't falter. That wasn't a stumble. She did _not_ trip over herself and land on the pavement. Tearing skin from hands and knees beneath leather. She did not, under any circumstances, hiccup and bite her tongue and squeeze her eyes shut and keep each breath she didn't take sucked inside her lungs with fear that they would come out as sobs because that was not her.

She did none of those things because she was Selina Kyle. She was Catwoman and she had no guilt. She did not feel anything for Batman; for Bruce-

She did none of those things because she was too guilty and ashamed and she couldn't breath because she was running too hard instead of facing her emotions. She had never confronted them and she wasn't going to start now over some idiot with a death wish. (Seriously, he just _had_ to know!) She was a brick wall with claws and teeth as sharp as a feral street cat. She didn't do emotions and she didn't feel guilt. She didn't care. She just didn't.

Except she did because otherwise she wouldn't be thinking about it and agonizing over his cold and _hurt_ eyes that were supposed to be the color of warm chocolate and not a prison wall for her conscious. A reminder of that goddamned dream that was too real and too- too…

Wonderful. Selfishly and heartbreakingly wonderful. It was just as much a torture as the sound of his back-

If his eyes were the prison and that sound the jailer, that dream was the knife he used to torture her with.

The dawn was coming and if she made it back to the apartment and told Jen and packed her little suitcase of crap and booked it to the airport, she just might escape before it became real. Before the doors to that prison closed up tight and she was lost. Before she lost her mind. Like she had lost her soul before that.

Like she had lost him.

It was the tell-tale wobble of her chin and lower lip that alerted her to the tears first.

* * *

 _A/N: I know! I am so freaking evil. But I had to do something to counteract the sweetness and maybe give a_ _reason for why Selina came back at the end of the movie. Cause, honestly, she wasn't in love with the poor bastard yet and she didn't just change her nature cause his little speech shone a light on her forgotten heart. Granted, because she was feeling so guilty and dreams are hardly ever remembered for more than a few days or weeks, it seems plausible that she could have thought about the dream in vague reference before she bolted. And who's to say it wasn't a premonition? ;)_

 _Hope you all liked the story and feel free to leave any reviews or message me with your thoughts. Thanks._


End file.
